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Once upon a time, in the prairie of the south and at the end of the shore cliff, there stood a castle. The grandeur and the beauty of the castle is beyond any words created by humans because the castle is built by Nature herself. Marbles and obsidians are made for walls, gemstones and jewels piled up as bricks. Fruitful grape vines suit as curtains and veils, entwining ivy and evergreens prop up in the shape of stairs and rails. Sunshine filters through pansies and daffodils at day; moonlight pours onto the magnificent garden full of vegetables and plants at night. The grounds were lit by the stars and the moon and their roof was the beautiful blue sky. And in the Castle there lives Prince Christopher. He’s more handsome and smart than any other prince in the world, his features are as if drawn by the finest artist, but there are still so many better ways to describe him, for his swiftness and strength are more valuable, and the most important part is that he has a heart of gold. He’s kind to all creatures in the forest and the grassland, and he is respected by all of them. He lives happily in the forest with his animal friends and his loyal servant Alfred and his faithful knight Ox, and of course, his mother Nature.
Nature is an impartial queen, she rules the whole forest and the grassland, and all the animals and birds who live in it. She is loved by all her subjects for her mercy and her kindness.
She’s a kind mother too. She teaches the Prince right from wrong. She teaches him how to be a good prince, and one day, a good king. With the help of Alfred and Ox, the prince grows up healthily and happily. Ten years past, the once baby prince is now a brave little boy. And from little birds to mighty lions, everyone in the forest loves him.
But happiness never lasts...
“Ow...” The little noise from the bed interrupts Buck’s tale telling. Christopher hums softly but does not continue.
Buck’s lips curl despite himself, he rubs the little one’s curly hair. “Nothing ever lasts, buddy.”
“But you said you’d stay with me.” Christopher looks at him.
Buck smiles and rubs the little one’s nose as he promises. “I always do.”
So Christopher nods understandingly. Buck lets out another chuckle and goes back to his storytelling.
But the happiness never lasts. An owl comes to the Prince one day when he plays in the forest just outside the Castle and with his animal friends.
She stands on the top branch of an oak tree, and speaks. Her feathers are darker than the deepest night, and finer than Alfred’s golden fur. She stands under the sunlight as she stares at the prince unblinkingly. There’s experience of age in her voice of advice as she sing-songs.
“My Prince, my dearest Prince. Winter has come and gone, with Nature he took away. From the Castle to the otherside of the sea. Trudge how long you must, trudge how long you need. Bring her back to us and set her free.”
“But how?” The prince snifts at the news. He didn’t cry though. The queen taught him that tears are saved for the saddest and the happiest moments. So, with Alfred and Ox supporting him at his side, he asks. “How am I going to travel across the sea? How am I going to find her?”
But she only hoots. “Use your wisdom, it’ll lead your way.”
With that she waves her wings and leaves. Only a feather is left behind and falls.
Alfred, like any good golden retriever, runs to it and catches it before it touches the ground. He woofs and brings it back to his little master.
Colors of the rainbow reflect on it like on a precious opal when the Prince holds it in his hand against the sunlight.
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Alfred sniffs at it curiously as Ox standing on the other side of the prince and says. “My lord, you can hang it on my horn, and I shall keep it safe for you.”
The prince nods and does so. The fine feather hanging on Ox’s horn glows under the bright sun. But Prince pays no attention to its charm as he tries hard to think of a way to get across the sea.
“We should build a boat.” Alfred barks excitedly as he circling around the prince's foot.
“With what?” Christopher frowns.
“With wood, of course.” Alfred laughs. And Ox adds. “And we should call our friends to help.”
They’ll never get a boat built with only three of them. Christopher has to agree with that.
So Alfred tells all the birds in the forest about their quest. Birds chirp and twitter as they fly away. They bring the news to all the animals in the woods. Elephants brought logs with their trunks as the ship’s body and keel, monkeys came with vines that could be woven into the sail. Honey and nuts sent from bears and squirrels are their food on the road. With the help from all the residents in the forest, the boat is built within one day.
Even a cricket comes, just before they are about to sail, and asks the prince to tag along.
Prince Christopher says to him. “You’re too small, my friend. You should stay at home.”
The cricket squeals. “Yes I’m small but that is my advantage. I could get to the places that are too narrow for you. I could get to your enemies when they didn’t even notice. And I can sing you songs on the road, to cheer you up. I just need to get across the sea to visit my brother.”
The prince is persuaded. “Alright, you can come along. My name is Christopher, these are my friends Alfred and Ox. What's your name?”
The cricket jumps on the boat. “Nice to meet you guys! I’m Jimney!”
Prince squats down and pulls out a finger to carefully shake the leg Jimney reached out.
“Nice to meet you too, Mr. Jimney. But you should find somewhere to hide. The wind would be too heavy, and the waves would be too strong.”
The cricket squeals in agreement, he turns to Alfred lying on the deck.
“Would you give me a ride?”
The big golden dog nods happily. “Sure, although it may get a little bumpy. I don’t like sitting around.”
Jimney squeals as he jumps onto Alfred’s back and disappears into the thick fur. “That’s quite alright, I don’t like that either!”
“I don’t like sitting around either!” Christopher chimes in.
Buck only laughs. “I know you don’t. You are my little superman!”
Christopher chuckles, before he asks Buck eagerly to go on.
The trip across the sea lasted until Lady Moon came out and fell down three times. There are sea monsters but Ox fought them back with his horns. They almost got lost in the storm, but thankfully the seagulls and albatrosses were leading their way. The journey is long, but it is tolerable with the sweet songs of Jimney’s. At long last, they finally get to the other side of the sea.
Spring greets them first. With her black curls and her brown skin, she smiles innocently and naively. She’s young and beautiful in an inhuman way. So beautiful that there is no one else in the prince’s eyes he could see. Her palace is luxurious, full of flowers more exotic than any Christopher had encountered before. More extraordinary than the flowers in Nature’s castle. They effloresce and flourish, never a day of fall nor fruit.
She gives the prince a rose and invites him to her palace to join her for dinner. The little prince, so deep he fell for her beauty, accepts her invitation without even thinking. He plucks the rose she gave him on the collar of his linen tunics, and unwisely goes into the castle.
Alfred barks, Ox moos, and Jimney screeches, but the prince couldn’t hear anything because he’s ears are jammed by Spring’s honey words. His friends have no choice but to follow him in.
Spring’s palace is lush and posh, and the dinner is even more fancier than the palace itself. Fresh grass and baby lambs are sweet, but no more than her sugar coated words or her false generosity. Alfred caves in first, then Jimney, and at the end Ox too. The prince’s guards, the only obstacles left for her, are worn down by Spring’s feed.
She serves him a glass of spring water and asks him to stay with her in the castle, and live happily ever after. She’s so beautiful and kind to him. Prince Christopher almost said yes. The temporary crush disguised as love makes him blind. Makes him forget his responsibility and his task. Makes him can’t see the enviousness in Spring’s green eyes at anything younger than her.
But just before he could drink the water, a thorn stings his hand, and the rose it belongs to whispers, “Wake up, my prince! You can’t indulge her love! Can’t you see? It’s poisonous! Love can be a trap!”
Christopher finally wakes. The water in the goblet is pure as the glass, but it shines venomously when the blood oozing out of his finger drops in it. He turns to Spring, righteous indignation in his voice.
“Save your love. I don’t need it.”
With that, he pours the glass of water on her face.
She cries for his rejection and for the beauty fades quickly the moment the liquid touches her face. She screams, and the palace screams with her.
Alfred and Ox and Jimney wake up when the prince pours the water. The spell of Spring is broken.
The palace shakes violently. The flowers and the blossoms are falling. First come petals, then leaves. The Prince and his friends get out of the palace before it falls down with the flowers.
“Is she dead? Ms.Spring?” Christopher asks. There's worry in his voice.
“No. She just got old.” Buck chuckles and strokes the brown curls as he lies by Christopher’s side. He smiles softly. “It’s something more horrible to her than death.”
Christopher nods quietly, so Buck goes back to his story once again.
The red rose in his hand cheers for Prince Christopher. She carefully retracts all her thorns so she won’t cut him when he’s holding her. “You did it! You passed it! I knew you could!”
Prince Christopher smiles bashfully. She reminds him of a sister, enthusiastic and buoyant. “Thank you so much! I almost fell for her deception. I’m Christopher. What’s your name?”
“You can call me Mary!” She replies with spring in her voice.
“Nice to meet you Mary, these are my friends, Alfred, Ox and Jimney.” They greet her warmly. “Do you want me to send you back to the forest? To your families?”
The petal of hers quivers as if she’s shaking her head. “No! I want adventures, I want to see a new world. Life in the forest is so boring, I want to travel with you.”
Young prince frowns. “But it’s going to be dangerous. I can’t look after you.”
Mary giggles. Her laugh is clear and melodious. “You silly! I don’t need your protection. Did you forget who saved you from her poison just before? You shouldn’t judge a lady’s power by her looks.”
Prince Christopher blushes because of her chiding. He concedes to her in the chorus of good-hearted laughter from his friends. “Alright, you can come with us. Where do you want to stay then?”
She preens pompously. “The collar is fine. I like the view there.”
So the little prince places her back on his collar. She compliments his rosy cheeks and lips, making him even more handsome under the sunrise.
“We should get going, my lord.” Ox suggests. “There’s still a long road waiting for us.”
Prince Christopher nods. Ox is always the voice of reason. But he’s exhausted. The night at Spring’s palace has drained him too much energy. He only wants to sleep now.
“You can ride on my back, my lord, and get some rest.” Ox nudges his chest gently and kneels down. “Come on. Climb up.”
The prince obeys. He’s too tired not to. Ox’s back is steady and firm; he falls asleep not soon after.
They walk towards summer.
It’s the hottest among kingdoms. One thousand golden gilt sunbirds are flying in the sky with no stop, pouring heat and light onto earth at day, and one thousand silver gilt nightingales are flying during the night, draining the coolness from the moonlight and making the night unbearably boiling too.
Prince Christopher wakes at the scorching heat. Mary is withering under the cruel sun. The singing from Jimney ceased too. Alfred is already hiding under Ox’s belly from the unforgiving fire ball hanging high on the blue cloudless sky, with tongue out of his mouth, panting. His thick golden fur does not help with the weather.
There’s a snort of laughter slips out of Eddie’s mouth as he leans on the doorframe, eavesdropping intently. Buck doesn't mind the childishness of the older Diaz except rolling his eyes at him before continuing.
“We should find a river. It’s too hot for us.” Ox announces. He looks down at Alfred who lies contently in the shadow of him. “Alfred! Stop panting like a dog and find us a river!”
Alfred stands from where he has been lying and mumbles. "But I am a dog. How else am I supposed to pant?"
The complaint and his grievance didn't stop him from sniffing in the air though. He leaps at the other side of the forest excitingly after a minute of searching.
"Come along, I think I found it." He woofs and calls his friends behind.
Ox follows as he questions Alfred scrutinizingly; the young prince is on his back. "Are you sure? Isn't that where we came from?"
Alfred says nothing as he keeps jogging forward. A small river presents itself as Alfred comes to a stop.
The stream is shallow but clear. It's exactly what they need. The water is refreshing. It brings back Mary’s vitality and Alfred’s spirit, and brings back Jimney’s chords. Even the hot weather seems to cool down a little as they get themselves ready and prepared to head to the road again.
And that’s when they saw the woman in the woods.
She’s smoking hot with her emerald dress. Her long black hair falls loosely on her back, her skin is white like swans’ feathers. She has ambers, rubys, and all those pretty and precious jewels in the world are decorating her, yet she is more gorgeous than them all.
“Wait, Buck.” Christopher interrupts before he could go on. “What is smoking hot?”
“Um...” Buck blushes, stuck.
Eddie sniggers behind him. “Buck is smoking hot.”
“Eddie!” Buck twists his head so hard at Eddie that the older Diaz is surprised there’s no cracking sound of it. He gives the shamelessly shrugging man a scandalized look and a death glare before he turns back to the smaller Diaz.
“Smoking hot means very beautiful, buddy.” He explains, and pointedly ignores the giggles coming from behind. Unfortunately, Christopher is snickering too.
Buck sighs. Sometimes he wonders which Diaz learned the ability to make him blush from which.
“Is your highness done laughing?” Christopher giggles giddily as he nods to allow Buck to continue. “So, where are we?”
“Smoking hot.” Christopher reminds him.
“Right...” Buck coughs and feigns to be cool. “So here’s this woman...”
It’s getting hotter and hotter as she walks closer and closer. It’s almost like they are in a furnace now as she stops and stands a couple feets away from them.
She didn’t look at the little prince though. She didn’t look at any of them, except for one.
“Can you sing that song again? It’s beautiful.” She half-sighs as she pleads at the little cricket.
“Me?” Jimney asks, unsure. He’s the smallest of them all, the weakest and the most useless of them all. She's so gorgeous, and he’s so mundane.
The woman nods.
So he sings. It’s the serenade he learned from his grandfather, which his grandfather learned from his. The song’s cadence flows with light tones and notes. The river and the birds sing with him as his accompaniment, in symphony.
And the woman smiles with the music. Buds flower and soft breeze winds through. Even the heat is cooling down when she lets out the smile.
“Can you stay with me? Sing to me everyday?” The woman asks the cricket. “I was so lonely and your song makes me so happy. I can send the rest of you to autumn, as long as you stay with me.”
Jimney looks at the little prince, torn. But the little prince misunderstands his hesitance.
“You don’t have to stay with her.” Christopher comforts him. “We can find another way.”
“But I want to stay.” Jimney says quietly as he stares at the prince. “Her smile makes me happy too. ”
He turns to the woman; she’s still smiling at him.
“Do you promise you’ll listen to my singing every day if I stay with you? And mine only, no one else’s?”
“I promise.” There are tiny wrinkles on the corner of her brown eyes. The weather is already as cool as the first fine days of summer.
So he makes up his mind and jumps off of Alfred’s back and jumps to her.
She chuckles and holds out her hands gently as he falls on those porcelain fingers. She whispers a thank you at him before she carefully puts him on her shoulder, then waves her hand at them.
“I don’t think Chimney is gonna be happy when he hears his ending.” Eddie chimes in.
Buck turns and gives him a smirk.
“It’s just a story, Eddie.” The grin on his face is nothing but playful mischievous. “Besides, he got the love of his life. Why would he be upset? Crickets can’t live in fall; he gets to stay in summer forever.”
Eddie only shrugs and grunts something like if you say so.
So Buck gives him another smirk before turning and goes back to his story.
Summer’s cyclone brings all the rest of them up to the blue sky and before Christopher could say anything, even goodbye to his friend, they were gone.
They fly and fly. Through rivers and lakes, hills and mountains. Cities and villages are like tiny dots when they are higher than the clouds. At last, the cyclone lands them at a clearing in the woods.
Maroon and golden leaves swing in the winds; ripe fruits hang low on the branches.
Christopher is starving, as are his friends. They pick some fruit that fell on the ground which hasn't rotted yet, and make their own feast.
They laugh, enjoying the rare peace, but the night soon has come. She comes quietly, the sun is already past the mountain when they come back from their play. Lady Moon is hiding behind the clouds, silently watching them arguing.
“It’s your fault.” The deep grunt of the ox growls at the big dog.
“How come it’s my fault?” Alfred barks in indignation. “I’m not the one who was so devoted to his grass and forgot the time.”
“I would’ve been much quicker if you weren’t rushing me.” Ox retorts. He puffs and glares his red eyes at the dog.
“Guys! Stop fighting!” Their banter is interrupted by Mary. She waves the green leaf on her stem at them as she scolds. “We should find somewhere to stay, it’s getting cold.” Boreas blowing through are getting chillier; it drenches Mary’s petals with night dew, and makes the little boy shiver. His trousers and tunic are getting wet from the evening fog.
The big dog strides up closer and nudges the boy’s calf with his wet cold nose but the boy’s skin is even colder. “Come on. You can ride on me now. I’m warmer than the stubborn bull.”
Ox snorts but says nothing in return. He pushes the boys back gently with his horns. “Quick. It’s getting late. We can’t let you spend the night outside.”
So the young prince gets on the back of Alfred. The dog’s body is warm like a stove. Christopher buries his face deep in the golden fur as they get on the road once again.
They walk and walk. Distorted shadows of branches casting from above are like witches’ brooms in the storybooks. Winds passing through leaves are howling at them like the shrieks from ghosts. But with the company of his friends Christopher has no fear.
They walk and walk, until Lady Moon hangs up high in the middle of the dark sky, scattering stars blinking at them curiously. There’s an orange light flickering from afar. It reveals itself as a wood house when they approach it.
Warm lights flicker through its window. Prince Christopher gets down from Alfred’s back and works his way up to the path of cobblestones in front of the house, with his friends following his heels. He straightens his crumbled tunic and fixes his messy curls, before he pulls on the wood knocker on the door.
His knock is promptly answered by an old lady. She’s plentiful, plum and stout. Her skin is as dark as chestnuts, and her lips are cherry red when they curve to a greeting smile.
“Good evening, madam. My name is Christopher. These are my friends, Alfred, Ox and Mary. We are lost in the woods. Would you allow us to spend the night in your lovely home?” Prince Christopher asks politely.
The old lady beams at them; there's a glow of age hiding in her wrinkles of laugh lines. “Of course, children! Of course you can stay. The night is too cold outside for a boy in the fall. And it’s too lifeless inside for an old biddy like me.”
“You are so kind.” The prince thanks her as they are rushed inside by the old lady. Alfred sniffs around curiously as he comes in first, and then the little prince. Ox’s mighty body almost gets stuck on the door. Luckily the old lady puts her hands on the frame and holds it wider for him to get in, before she pulls them back to normal.
“Go! Go fetch the fireplace! Your hands and your face are blue with the cold! I’ll get you some hot tea. Too bad I don’t have many opportunities to have kids around to host.” She drones on as she wobbles to the little kitchen at the other side of the exquisite wood house. Candles and oil lamps dye the room with a layer of honey gold. “How did you little birds end up in this old dump?”
Alfred crouches on the Little prince’s lap, as the boy sits on the woolen carpet on the ground and leans back against Ox’s firm body. He barks before the little prince could answer.
“We are adventurers!”
The old lady laughs heartily as she returns with a pot of tea and cups, and a vase of water in her tray. She puts down the tea and cups on the small table and gestures to the little rose on the prince's collar. “Put her in here before she gets burned by the heat, and let her get some rest. You must be tired.”
Christopher takes the vase gratefully. He carefully plucks down Mary from his tunic and puts her in the vase. Her petals fold lazily as she sighs in content. “Yes… I’m going to take my beauty sleep now.”
“Where are you adventurers heading then, if I may ask?” She pours a cup of tea and hands it to the prince, who takes it with gratitude.
“My mom was taken away by Winter.” The prince says, he cups the mug in his hand. “We must find her.”
“I'm sure you will, dear.” The old lady comforts him. The fire in the hearth flickers, and Ox asks suddenly.
“How may we address you, madam, so we can thank you properly for your generosity?”
The old lady chuckles.
“I’m where winter comes and summer goes.” Her hazel eyes glint with teasement. “I’m when all the fruit ripens and all the flowers wilt.”
Alfred is confused, his furry tail wriggles. “But we haven't met Winter yet. And summer is already gone.”
Christopher perks up at the riddle. “I know. She’s autumn!”
Buck laughs and praises full-heartedly. “Yes. You are just as smart as our little prince.”
Christopher giggles proudly.
“And smarter than the himbo dog.” Eddie weighs in with a snicker. Buck didn’t bat an eyelash at his jabbing though. He has plenty of time for revenge later, after he lulled Christopher to sleep, and when the house is only for the two of them.
Prince Christopher speaks after a moment of deliberation. “You are autumn, aren’t you?”
“Correct.” The Fall credits him with a wink.
“Can you tell us the way to winter?” Prince Christopher pleads. “I can give you anything for exchange.”
The old lady merely smiles. “I won’t ask you for anything except one small price.”
The prince nods, sincerity in his voice. “Anything you want.”
Fall’s lips twitch in amusement as her hazel eyes survey them. “I ask for the thing you carry all along. The thing you have yet weighs none. The thing you possess together, and would be gone when you’re alone. It can’t be bought, only found. One man can’t have it, for between two souls it shone. And I only ask for it one night.”
Christopher is puzzled. He couldn’t think of a thing that he carries but has no weight.
He turns to his father who’s leaning on the door frame with arms hooking, and asks for his help.
“She’s asking for their company.” Eddie smiles softly at them.
“She’s asking for our company.” Ox says gently. “Am I right, milady?”
Laughter wells when she applauses. “Absolutely.” She turns to the little prince. “Will you give me that?”
“As promised.” Prince responds. “Even without your request.”
Fall seems pleased. She gestures to the little prince to come closer to the fire as the north wind howls outside the window. She waves her hand at the tray and refills it with fresh fruit and nuts. She taps the teapot, and it is replenished with hot cocoa. She begins with a story of a racing game between an hare and a tortoise. The fire in the hearth glints and colors everything with an orange hue. The logs in the fire grow white with ash.
The time of peace and sweetness flies by quickly in the humming drones of Fall’s enticing stories.
“Children, finish the last pumpkin pie and go to bed. The night is late.” She nudges the little prince upstairs to where a small cot is waiting. Alfred jumps on the little bed and lays at the prince’s side. “The big fellow of yours can stay with me.”
Prince Christopher yawns and nods at her. He falls asleep before his head hits the pillow.
“He doesn’t have to brush his teeth before bed.” Christopher whines absentmindedly to Buck, yet pointedly at his dad.
Buck can practically hear it in the sigh coming from behind that Eddie is rolling his eyes in his head.
“Dios.” Eddie pokes accusingly at Buck’s shoulder and complains. “This is your fault.”
Buck is nothing but indulgent to Eddie’s occasional inner child. He turns to look up at the manchild and cracks a smile full of smug, and corrects condescendingly:
“Prince Christopher yawns and nods at her. So she waves her magical hand at him to brush his teeth. And then he falls asleep before his head hits the pillow.”
He turns from the laughing smaller Diaz to the exaggerating older Diaz, and drawls, “Happy?”
Buck actually sees Eddie rolling his eyes this time.
It takes a while for the two boys to heave their barking laugh and goes back to the bed-time story.
The little prince wakes up to the smell of pancakes and pies.
They head to the road in the morning, after they had the sumptuous breakfast she served and after they said their thanks and bid their goodbye to her.
She instructs them that they just need to go straight north.
It’s getting colder and colder as they travel further north. Sleet becomes snow and snow becomes blizzard. Fortunately Alfred has his fur; Ox has his hide; and Christopher has a woolen coat and scarf Fall gifted. She also presented him with a silver plate and an iron spoon.
“Tap the plate two times with the spoon, it will be filled with hot soup. Tap the plate three times with the spoon, it will be filled with warm food.” And then she winked at him, and gave the little prince her last riddle. “And don’t tap the plate, it will grant you wisdom.”
Her kind presents protect them well from the cold and starvation, but they couldn’t help them to find the right direction in the great blizzard. All is white in Winter’s realm. The lores say he was once a human king, and ruled the north kingdom kindly. But one day a vicious storm destroyed his castle, and he found the coldness had frozen all his families to death. He lost all the people he loved. So he let his heart be blocked by ice.
“The snow is too heavy! I can’t smell anything.” Alfred barks at the little prince. The blizzard rages as they trudge. “I don’t even know which way is north.”
“We’ll get lost in the storm if we still can’t find the right direction.” Ox moos. Howling winds blow through the owl’s feather on his horn, it sweeps by the wind, drifting and shaking.
“The owl said wisdom will lead my way.” Prince Christopher says in frustration. He glances around but all is blindingly white. “Maybe I’m not wise enough.”
Mary muses. She’s carefully tucked in the inner pocket of his tunic, protected by the layers of clothes and the warmth of his body. Even the terrible weather can’t put a hinge on her high spirit. “Didn’t Fall say ‘don’t tape the plate, it will grant you wisdom?’”
Her words light up new hope for Christopher once again. He pulls the plate and the spoon out from his pocket, and puts the spoon on the plate.
The bowl of the spoon falls on the bottom of the plate, and the handle twirls and whirls in the air. It finally stops and points to a direction, and holds its position steadily no matter how hard the wind blows.
“It’s a compass!” They all cheer in triumph.
But the storm grows bigger and bigger, and the wind howls louder and louder. They roar at the prince. “Go back! Little human boy. Go back! While you still can!”
“No!” The little prince shouts back at them. “I won’t leave without my mom.”
The wind blows even harder, enraged. It snatches the scarf away from the prince’s neck. But he still strides firmly; he still has his coat.
So it yanks the coat away from the prince. But he still strides firmly; he still has his friends.
Nothing it does can hold back the prince’s determination. Even shivering and shaking in the coldness, the prince still trudges with no end. So the wind ceases and the snow stops. The air is clear.
An old man is waiting on their way.
His face is pale as ice, his hair is white as snow, and his beard is coated with frost. He breathes at them, and his breath freezes them in their tracks.
Alfred is frozen in the middle of his barking. Ox is frozen in the middle of his charging. Crystal ice restrains them, binds them.
Prince Christopher tries to cover Mary in his hands, but he is frozen too. The glacial breath slithers through his pocket. The delicate body of the flower shivers in the freezing wind, she wails. And then she withers.
One by one, the flaming petals fall, the crimson red scatters. Her thorn cuts in his hand, deep in his flesh. All blood red lay the untrodden snow.
With the fall of the final leaf, the last bit of her is gone.
The pain of the thorn is nothing compared with the great sorrow clenching the prince’s heart. He wants to yell, but the ice is blocking his mouth. He wants to reach, but the ice is holding his hands. All he can do is cry.
Tears drizzle down silently. It burns. They burn through the ice, and drop on the snow with his blood. The crystal ice is melted by the saltywater, he’s free again.
But he kneels on the ground, with one hand gripping the only remains of Mary, and gathers the scattered petals with the other.
He collects them tenderly, gently, carefully, and without tearing a single piece. He tries to put them together, to put them back. But they won’t.
The hot tears drip down on his bleeding hand, and rain down on the frozen ground. So the ice world melts for them.
First the frost and then the snow, and finally Winter himself.
“Ah...” The old man walks to them slowly, he mourns. The frost on his beard and the snow on his hair is melting too. “How foolish am I, to hurt someone else for I am being hurt. How cruel am I, to hurt someone the way I was hurt.”
He bows, tone regret. “Ice concealed my heart and made it cold. I can’t bring her back. But at least I can make amends. ”
He straightens and waves his hand at the sky.
A crane is brought to them by the north wind he called. Her feathers are all white.
She flies closer and closer and turns to a woman when she lands in front of them.
“Oh my child! My sweet, sweet child!” She cups the prince’s tear stained face in her hands. “Don’t worry! There’s no need to cry.”
“But—“ The prince’s watery gaze turns at her.
“Shh…” she gently takes the stem away from his hand, and plants it in the melted soil.
The stem drinks his tears, and soaks in the sunlight. A green bud comes out first, and it turns to leaves. Leaves turn to more leaves, until the stem is fully grown with a rose bud on the top.
Prince Christopher watches it tentatively, breath holding. Alfred walks up to him and licks on his bleeding hands to stanch the wounds. Ox is staring behind the prince’s shoulder, he doesn’t want his big body to bump the fragile plant.
The rose bud quivers softly, unfolds slowly, but it flowers in the end.
“I feel like I had a long dream.” Mary yawns.
“Yes!” Christopher waves his little fist in the air and cheers.
Buck only smiles and continues.
“Hooray!” Alfred barks.
Prince Christopher finally lets out a laugh. Even Ox is giggling.
Nature looks at her son affectionately. “My child, my strong, smart child. You did well.”
The little prince sighs in her embrace. “Can we go home now?”
“I’m so sorry, my dear. I can’t stay with you.” The sadness in her eyes brims. “I love you so much, my dear. But I can't love you only. Everyone has their duty, and I’ve neglected mine for ten years. I can’t ignore it any longer.”
The prince’s lips wobble, but he only nods.
Nature smiles. “I’ll always love you, my darling.” She kisses him on the forehead. “Be brave.”
And with that, she’s gone.
Prince Christopher nods to himself. Mom is right. He has his own duty too. He’ll be brave, for the people he loves.
Alfred is the first one to speak. “How about we go to summer and see how Jimney’s doing, and tell him about our adventure?”
This finally perks Prince Christopher up. “That’s a great idea.”
So Winter calls for the north wind. It comes and brings them up to the sky once again and sends them to the kingdom of summer, to where Jimney lives with his love, and where Prince Christopher and his friends live happily ever after.
“I wish she could stay...” Christopher murmurs.
“I wish that too, buddy.” Buck’s fingers comb through his curls gently. “But it's getting late. You should sleep now. You have school duty tomorrow.”
Christopher sighs but closes his eyes obediently.
So Buck lets out a soft chuckle and gives his forehead a soft kiss. “Sleep tight, my little prince.” He whispers, before he tucks the little one in and turns off the light. He leaves the room quietly. Eddie has already left, but Buck did not notice.
He finds Eddie in their bedroom. The older Diaz is already lying on the bed with his back to the door. He isn’t asleep though, to Buck’s surprise. What surprises him even more is Eddie’s posture. Tense. Stiff. Frigid.
“Hey.” Buck puts his hand softly on his shoulder as he sits on the edge of the bed. He can’t see Eddie’s face. “What’s wrong?”
Eddie flinches by his touch. “Nothing.”
Buck can always see through his lies. Let alone the evident tremor in his voice.
“What’s the matter, Eddie?” Buck is worried. “You can tell me. Did I overstep? Am I not supposed to tell the story?”
“No!” Eddie finally turns, eyes fiery. “No… It’s not like that.”
He wipes his face with the back of his hand and sighs.
“The story is good. It’s great.” Eddie takes Buck’s hand as he confesses. Fingers entangle. “It’s more than I can hope for. He’s been having nightmares since the tsunami and Shannon. You gave him closure.” You gave us closure . He looks Buck in the eye and he says with all his heart. “Thank you.” For being in our lives.
“It’s my honor.” Buck says with equal love before he smiles and leans in.
The kiss is tender. More tender than petals of the rose.